Under Your Spell
by CitrusFox
Summary: Evelyn is a young art student who has suffered the tragedy of her parents death and has inherited the murder house. She moves in alone, hoping for a fresh start. That is however until she meets a dark and mysterious young man. He captivates her heart like no other. Yet, little does she know he isn't as beautiful as he seems. Tate\OC Rated M for Adult Themes.


"_Evelyn, honey… Your mother is dead."_

The news was still hitting me like a freight train every time I re-played those somber and terrible words in my head. It made my mind feel so large, as if it is as deep and as vast as a canyon with stormy clouds above. This canyon, so deep you cant even see the bottom, it just looks like a black pit. Those words still ringing in my head.

"_Evelyn, honey… Your mother is dead."_

Loudly.

Very Loudly.

I snapped back into reality, realizing that I was still in my apartment off the school grounds. I took in my surroundings, forgetting that I was still existing in this world. From the old leather chair in the living room, I looked around, curled up in a sleepy manner. I blinked tiredly as I scanned all the boxes with my personal belongings. All of them neatly packed away, just waiting to be picked up by the moving truck. My body felt heavy with ache and depression. The world felt as if it was going to end.

About a month ago, I was still in school, studying diligently as an art student; my media of choice being oil painting. I impressed my teachers with fine and delicate skills of crafting an image from my mind. My parents supported me fully and they had heard of my struggling to adapt to a school environment because I had been homeschooled my whole life. I was practically begging for them to let me come home and pursue my art ideas elsewhere. School just wasn't for me.

It was then my mother told me that they were buying a new house. Well, an old house I should say, a very old house. It was built in the 1920s. The pictures that they sent me when they moved in and the Skype tours showed me it was a beautiful house indeed. What was also good news for them is that they got it at a really great price.

I was so enthralled that I would be moving back home into a Victorian house. I could only imagine what beautiful painting patterns I could mimic from that blue Tiffany glass.

However shortly after they moved in it, I received a phone call saying my mother and father were in the hospital. It was a devastating highway collision. It broke my father's back and crushed my mom's ribcage. My father clung to life longer than my mother did. It was awful. I just can't get the look on his face out of my head when he was in that bed with his spine broken in half. He was still alive when I got there, holding on, just to say goodbye.

"_Dad?"_

"_Yes baby."_

_I looked down at my father and caressed his head with my hand, gently stroking down his cheek. He swallowed slowly, followed by a drowsy blink. _

"_I love you."_

_He broke a small weak smile._

"_I love too."_

_His voice was almost a whisper. So soft and so gentle, barely passing between his cracked lips. _

"_Moira will take care of you and the house. You must… you must take care of that house. It is yours."_

"_Dad. No, you can do this, please," I start to cry hard, "Daddy please."_

_My father closed his eyes before saying what were his final words._

"_Don't be afraid."_

_Then a loud ringing noise started in my ears. I was in a drunken sadness. I could hear a voice, voices yelling louder and louder, "Code blue! Code Blue! Get the crash cart!"_

_Someone was yanking me away from what I now realized was me holding on to my father. _

_And then it hit me. _

_Reality full bore._

_My father's eyes were wide open on the bed. Vacant like the Bates motel._

_And that loud ringing._

DING DONG.

I woke myself from my memories and got up to open the door. The pads of my feet met the cool wood floors. Opening the door with a swing, I was greeted by unpleasant, bored faces of the moving truck workers. One of them stepped forward, clipboard in hand.

Their matching dark purple shirts and black long shorts synced together in my vision.

Ha. Great.

"Ms. Duren? We're here to move your belongings to your new home today," he flashes a warm smile my way before handing me the clipboard, "Sign here, yes… annnnd here… yes. Thank you. We will try to not get in your way."

As if they were little worker bees, they loaded the truck with all my things. I watched them solemnly take one box at a time, stripping my place bare. My apartment felt like she was soon but nothing in her bra and panties.

I was moving from one hellhole to another. I was leaving school, for good. I was leaving this god awful lonely apartment. However, I was soon to be in a new house that I inherited from my parents. Some house that held all of my family's heirlooms and belongs, but not my family. It would be the old memories that were still in the picture frames, the notes my mom probably left on the fridge for my dad, their belongs all held in their frozen place since my parents last touched them.

It was all too much to take.

"Alright miss, you're all packed up and ready to go. We'll see you at your house."

I broke out of my haze again when I heard the man who seemed to be in charge of the movers. I looked at him blankly and he seemed to have a disconcerted look on his face.

"Thanks, see you there," I say.

He smiled slightly and walked out of my apartment while I followed. For the last time, I locked the door and head to the parking garage.

By the time I had made it to my car I felt that a heavy weight was being pressed down upon my tired shoulders. The ache of despair and sadness filled my heart. "It's okay," I told myself, "You will have a bright future."

"_By yourself, Evelyn."_

I shook the feeling of being alone and venturing into a new place. I didn't have very many connections to where I was going. My heart felt heavy as I sat down in the seat in my grey Honda civic. With a quick flick of my fingertips I flip open the vanity mirror. I took in my soft elfish features. My once vibrant green eyes now seemed a little duller. The tip of my pointed nose was a little pink from all the blowing it from crying. My small full lips a light pink and a little chapped. I pressed them together and fix my straight across bangs. I then pulled my long, straight brown hair back into a low ponytail.

And with another swift flick of my hand I closed the mirror and headed off on the journey to my new house. As I pulled out of the parking structure I motioned to the movers in the van to follow me. Quickly I exited the complex, bumping along the speed bumps. I came to the stop sign and looked left and right onto the upcoming road. I turned right and boarded the freeway.

The drive there all seemed to blend together, especially the LA freeway. People were flying like jackrabbits through dense traffic. However getting off the freeway was the most interesting.

As I drove through the city, slowly I felt like I was decaying out of the larger buildings and apartment complexes and into the more urban neighborhood. The trees were becoming a little fuller and a little more close together. The further I went out into the cities wealthy area, the more houses began to look more aged and Victorian.

Then, I see it.

The house.

It's beautiful, the glass windows and the white framing. It looks so decadent and alluring with its old nature. The house was made of red ripened brick with a brown roof. The archway was made entirely of marble and had two ionic pillars on the sides of it. Even the pathway leading up to it was made of red brick.

It was elegant and had a lot of character. I pulled around the sideway and parked in the outdoor garage on the grounds.

This was now home.

Stepping out of the car, I felt relaxed under the cloudy sky. The cool autumn air touched my skin and caressed my body through my white blouse and cardigan. The willow trees long and wispy branches and leaves swayed in the wind gracefully. The smell of fresh cut grass and lawn trimmings was in the air. It was then when I saw the movers pull up.

The piled out of the front of the moving truck and slid open the doors.

I turned my attention away from them and walked myself along the side walkway back around to the front. I walked into the archway and wrapped my hand around the brass handle while unlocking the top lock.

The door had a bit of a resistance to it and I opened it, pushing hard.

Inside the main corridor was beautiful. The wood floors were polished and shiny as if they were new. It smelled softly of white vinegar and fresh paint. My parents had barely moved in.

I took note of the elaborate mantle piece. The glass was beautiful and displayed in fan like positions. Light danced through the colors and made a colorful spider web of light on the polished floor below it.

My feet carried me further into the house, where I passed the study with my dad's large pristine leather chair and oak desk. The floor rug was a large Navajo blanket with intricate patterns of turquoise, black and red. I then come to a large acoustic hall. It is shaped like an octagon with random wall sections made of Tiffany glass. Cerulean blues, thick blood reds and vibrant yellows and golds still shimmered in the broken sunlight that bled through the clouds. Through the colored glass, I could see what was the garden with a large gazebo that was made of beautiful hand carved wood. There were some carvings in the wood, but I couldn't make it out through the glass.

I passed through the hallway and headed into what was the kitchen. It was modern with black granite countertops polished to their best. The cabinetry was a darker cherry wood with almost crystal like little windows showing my parents ceramic dishes.

Memories danced before my eyes with dinners of my parents and me.

Their voices were still entrenched in my memory. I shook myself from these thoughts and tried to continue touring the house.

In the center of the kitchen there was a large island. The top was made of a light wood and in the center there was a fruit basket placed, however the fruit was beginning to look old.

I noticed that there were also no dishes in the sink were dirty. My mother made sure that there were never any dirty dishes.

The sink was a polished pewter color with stainless steel spout.

There was another small window above the sink leading out to the large garden, which I could now see was a lush green with ivory statues.

_Beautiful, _I think.

"Hello Ms. Duren."

The cool and calm voice of an older woman slipped into my ears. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

I turned my head before my body around. I smiled a little bit, remembering what my father had said. I took her in in her maid outfit. She seemed like such a prude older woman. Her red hair was done up in an older manor, elegant and simple.

"You must be Moira."

"Yes, Ms. Duren. I am the housekeeper. Your father put me in his will so I'm here to stay. I'm prepaid sort of speak. I work Monday through Thursday, Thanksgiving on, Christmas off."

"I'm afraid I don't really-"

"I'm here to stay," She snapped coldly, frowning momentarily. It was then when I noticed her right eye was misty as if she suffered from some sort of cataract. If she had all this money from my parents' death, why not get it fixed? My brain was curious, that and among other things when I noticed her vision snap to something behind me.

"You're going to die in here."

A dull voice rang into my ears. I turned around shaken, but inquisitive to the voice behind me. There was a tall girl with down syndrome. Her face always looking in this permanent sad expression.

"What?" I spoke softly.

"I said you're going to die in here."

I turned my head to the side and examined her with curious eyes.

"Adelaide!" An older voice cried out from in the hallway.

A beautiful older blonde woman with brown eyes stepped into the room.

"Adelaide," Her southern voice said disappointed, "Sweetheart, I've told you to leave the new neighbor alone."

I was sort of taken back, maybe the neighbors were used to coming over here a lot. They sure did seem to make themselves comfortable by just coming in.

"Addie, head on home now." She said gently.

Trying my best to be polite, I stretched out a hand in a friendly manor, "Hi, I'm Evelyn Duren."

"The Daughter," She cooed smiling, ignoring my handshake, "And my, my you are pretty."

I turn my head away from her as she reached out to stroke the back of her fingers against my cheek.

"Um, Thanks," I manage to say awkwardly, stepping back.

"So sorry to hear about your parents…" She chided sympathetically. She sounded like everyone else.

The blonde woman's face drops slightly, pouting almost. She was wearing an elegant but simple, blue dress that hit her mid calf. She wore a brown leather belt that circled her waist.

"I'm Constance, your neighbor. That creature you saw was my daughter, Adelaide." She circled the Island in the kitchen and walked up next to Moira, who was standing there nervously.

"Don't you have some cleaning to do?" Constance smiled her southern bell smile at Moira, while Moira just frowned and started coldly at her.

"Moira and I go way back," Constance explained as Adelaide walked up and stood next to her mother. She smiled sheepishly at me, as if she were hiding something. Constance put a hand on Adelaide's shoulder.

"I will make sure Addie will stay out of your house."

"It's fine, it's nice to know I have friendly neighbors," I say trying not to make it too awkward after this girl just told me I was going to die.

"I'll see you soon Miss Evelyn."

And with that Constance left.

Moira was still standing there frowning softly. The clock on the microwave caught the attention of my eyes and I then focused on Moira. I felt pity for her. I thought to myself that she really must hate cleaning up other people's messes.

"Moira, it's 3:30. You can go home if you like."

"I will call a cab."

"Alright. I appreciate having you around."

I left the Kitchen and went to tell the movers where to put my boxes, but when I got to the front door, they were already gone. I was a little confused, so I ventured upstairs to my new bedroom.

When I arrived to my new bedroom, I found that the door was shut. It was a large oak door with round brass handle. I slowly twisted the doorknob and opened the door with much hesitation.

Strangely, all of my boxes for my room were there. I had my furniture put into storage because I knew my parents' furniture would be much nicer than the chair and sofa from my apartment.

I took in my new room. The walls were a robin's egg blue. The floor entirely made of wood. There was a large beige fur rug at the left side of my bed. The ceiling was slanted above my bed and met the rest of the walls of the room that were vertical. My aged white painted dresser was now up against the wall with a large oval mirror.

It was plain and it would need work, but I was up for the challenge. I looked out of my bedroom window. It opened up to the main window outside. I could see the long ominous shadows that the house casted upon the street.

Thinking it would be good to get some fresh air I decided to go outside to the backyard.

Soon I found myself sitting peacefully in the backyard in a hammock tied up in a willow tree. It was calming; the wind was blowing softly through the trees. They sang in soft whispers as some of the leaves fell and flew sporadically in the wind. The looked like little dancers in the setting sunlight. They twisted and twirled, letting the wind blow them wherever it may.

"It's nice out here, isn't it?"

A calm male voice spoke out.

Confused, I looked around, thinking to myself that I was alone.

"Over here," the voice said again.

I looked back at the house and I noticed a young man letting himself into the backyard with me. He slowly stepped out, opening the backyard door wide.

His blonde hair was tousled in loose curls around his beautiful face. His dark, tired eyes met mine and he smiled mischievously.

He couldn't be any older than 18.

"What is it with you neighbors just barging into my house?" I sat up, getting uncomfortable and annoyed. I could feel the depression melting away and a fire bird rising within me.

He was quick to trap it in a cage, ensuing ferocity.

"Relax, I used to live here," he says as a matter of fact.

"Oh yeah? And you think you can just walk in anyways?" I said curtly.

He closes the door behind him and walks halfway out into the yard. The blonde angelic looking boy shoves his hands in his pockets. His jeans are ripped on one knee and he was wearing black converse. His black and green striped shirt clung to his broad chest.

"I don't think you want me to go just yet," He locked his gaze with mine. I watch the corner of his mouth turn up deviously.

Mesmerizing.

God he was handsome.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Tate."

**Alright, so this is my first crack at writing a fanfic in a long time. Yes, this is a Tate/OC story. However, I intend this to be mature and a different take on the Tate we know. Please forgive me if I have bad spelling or gramatical errors. I don't have a beta reader sadly :(, but feel free to message me if you think you could help out! Next chapter should be up soon. Stay tuned. :) **

**Disclaimer:**

**I don't own AHS or anything I referenced in this story.**


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